


Stanley Pines: A Summary

by scoutshonour



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 10k, 5k, Bisexual Stan, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent, Other, POV Second Person, Suicidal Thoughts, Weapons, mentions of domestic abuse, second perspective, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:06:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6285907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of Stan(ley) Pines: his downfall and eventual rise to grace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stanley Pines: A Summary

You're ten when you realize that your best friend is your brother. It's kind of pathetic, but you love him, even if you refuse to admit it. Those jerks from the middle school nearby find it necessary to pick on Stanford, like it's their job, when they're probably flunking every subject in school. (Not like you're one to talk.) Stanford doesn't like to say it, but it hurts. You can tell - it's a twin thing. He isn't like you. He's brave, sure, but he isn't ... as impulsive. So, naturally, you get in a fistfight with them, which results in those two goons getting suspended. Your school never finds out, since you're so young, and they should, quote: "Know better". 

You two celebrate your mini-victory by going out to the ice cream parlor nearby. Stanford's lactose intolerant, so you get him some yogurt instead. What can you say? You really like ice cream. Mom says you're hyperactive, and sugar is the last thing you need. Sure, you stole five bucks from her, but what's five bucks really gonna do, anyway?

You're ten years old when you realize your brother completes you.

You're okay with that.

* * *

 You're fifteen when your mom brings you big, life-altering news to you: you're going to have another sibling. 

"Aren't you too old for that?" You're not really joking, but she smacks your arm, and laughs it off. Your mom's in her late thirties, so she must have had you and Ford when you were really young. You don't know how to congratulate them without making a joke. You were never good with words.

Your brother, on the other hand, is. "I'm happy for you, mom."

Your mom pulls you both into hugs, holding you close. You can smell her perfume, her stomach digs into yours, and you're uncomfortable. But the gesture feels nice, and you won't complain.

Your father brews in the corner, looking detached. Is this the face of a man who's about to have another kid? He looks much older than your mom, and that kind of makes you uncomfortable. Like he took advantage of a twenty-year old something girl, who was new to town and knew absolutely nobody. You don't dwell on that thought.

"Sucks we won't be here for his growing up years," you say, thinking about how you and Ford turn eighteen in two years. Your sixteenth is coming up soon, and crap, you need something for your brother soon.

That seems to be good enough for your mom, who cries a little bit, clinging onto you.

Ford shoots you a grin, like he's proud of you for tearing up your mom. Figures.

After that emotional mess, you both hang out in your room, passing a ball back and forth. "You actually excited for a little squeak runnin' around?" You say gruffly, catching the ball with ease. You throw it back, and of course, he misses it. He's your favorite person. You're two peas in a pod, like they always say. You're always honest with each other. When he doesn't reply, you raise a brow. "Earth to nerd?"

"Sure," he says, sounding earnest. "You'll always be my twin, but it gets a little lonely, you know? But I'm worried for mom. She doesn't handle stress well."

"We'll be here for the first two years, though," you point out, and you're met with a sigh. Of course, Stanford's worrying about something that won't matter. Can't he be happy for a few months before any issues come into play? But it's true. You think of how many times you saw your mom cry when you were younger, how your father screamed at her for crying for no good reason. 

How you considered stealing the shotgun from your dad's office and shutting him up for good. You've told that thought to your brother, and he told you that'd worsen everything. You consider it more than once, even now. You're sure that he's beaten her up too. You won't end up like him, you  _refuse._ You never share that thought with Stanford.

"Yeah, but I just worry for the kid," Ford says, sounding troubled.

You stand up, and ruffle his hair. "Stop overthinking. The kid'll do fine. It's not like it's our problem anyway." Thinking about your future sibling is hurting your head, and you want to stop, let out some steam. "Let's go out - I need some sunlight."

This thought doesn't seem to reassure your brother, but he says nothing, smiling when you ruffle his hair again.

* * *

You're eighteen when you make the worst, fucking mistake someone could make. How _stupid._ While ruining your brother's life, you ruin yours too. Your dad, no, he doesn't deserve that title, kicks you out after finding out you blew your brother's chances at exceeding. At making him rich, making his pathetic life worth something.

You hear Shermie crying, wailing at the sound of a fight. Your mother comes in, holding him protectively in her hands, rubs at her eyes. She's exhausted, clearly, but she won't say anything. "What's going on?" She demands, but no one tells her.

"GET OUT," your father barks, and your mother opens her mouth to say something.

She never does.

"Stanford, c'mon, you know I didn't mean it!" You start to beg, plead. Your brother, however, says nothing, just stares at you, like he's already forgotten you.

"Selfish fucking pig," you scream at your father, and you run out. The neighbors are staring, peering outside of their apartments, nothing better to do than spy on the Pines family. Typical, Jersey behavior. Typical _father_ behavior. You storm out, hearing your mother crying, screaming at your father from the inside. They'll forgive you, you insist, they'll forgive you ... 

You never see your father after that day. 

* * *

You're twenty-nine when you realize you're a failure. You bounce from state to state, with new identities. No one knows you. You haven't had an actual conversation with a person in  _years._ You haven't seen your brother, Stanford, or your younger brother in years. Shermie would've been thirteen today, you realize, with a hollow feeling swarming your chest. Your younger brother's image is fuzzy, but you remember him. You should send him something, so you buy a snow globe and send it off with the change in your pocket. You say it's from Stan, leaving no return address. 

A part of you wonder if Shermie even knows who you are. It would have been easy for them to never bring you up after ruining Stanford's life, to forget about you like you never really mattered.

Maybe you never did.

You're laying low in a motel, chugging beer to make the days go by faster, and a thought rushes to her head. About how if you died this second, who would miss you? You've never really gotten attached to anyone. You've had a few girlfriends, a few boyfriends here and there, but nothing  _serious._ Surely not your family, who knows where they are. Shermie probably won't remember you, and you doubt your parents would have the decency to tell him about you, the brother that failed him and Stanford. The brother that's probably dead. Who would go to your funeral? 

Maybe it's a good thing you haven't seen your family in a decade. Maybe.

You never really mattered.

This thought starts to freak you out, starts to make you consider using the gun in your pickup truck until something happens.

Something slips through the metal box at the bottom of the door and you freeze, positive it's death threat or an explosive. You've scammed a lot of people in your years, and someone trying to kill you doesn't surprise you. Maybe it's time, anyway. This life's been dragging out.

You inhale sharply, and pick up a piece of paper with the name Gravity Falls on the front. You snort. That's a stupid fucking name. You nearly scream when you see the name, the person who sent it to you.

_Stanford Pines._

He's living in Gravity Falls, Oregon and there's no note - there's nothing but his name and address. 

Your brother wants to see you. 

Your heart pangs.

You tell yourself, convince yourself, that this is a sign. He's forgiven you, he's forgiven you ... it's only taken him eleven years, but  _still._ The drive up to Gravity Falls is long, but you calm your thoughts of fear, of worry, with music. The eighties, man, you think, but you find yourself humming along to some of the music. Michael Jackson is the most generic name you've ever heard, but damn, it's good.

When you reach Stanford's house, you're shaking. You're thinking of every single, little thing that could go wrong. You force yourself to stop whining, get up and you knock _hard_ against the wooden door. This house looks new, and you laugh to yourself, thinking about how Stanford couldn't have made this place.

What if this isn't Stanford? 

What if it's some trick from the shark loans?

The door swings open, and you see him.

_Fuck._

He stares at you, visible bags underneath his eyes. His face falls with realization, and there's nothing but breathing for the next minute.

"You look like shit," you say.

He doesn't laugh.

"Come - come in," he says, the first thing he's said to you in over a decade. 

You step in, shivering from the cold, cold snow. "Cozy place, you got here," you say aloud, looking around. It's small, and you want to ask if there are any kids running around or if there's a missus, but the home is too empty, too neat: it must just be Stanford.

"Yeah," he says absentmindedly, pushing his glasses up with his index finger. "I need your help."

You haven't cried since you were nine and you hit your brother so hard, he passed out and you thought he was dead. Why does this sting so much? Why does this hurt so much? The fact that your brother needed your help, needed something from you instead of  _you?_ You don't cry even though a desperate, pathetic part of you wants to, but you scowl.

 _Bastard_ , you think. You want to storm out, but you don't. You've caused him too much pain, too much harm. You owe him this at the very least. "What do you need?" You ask with a sigh.

"Alright, before I explain, it's ... it's kind of a mess. A scary, exciting mess. And make the decision now if you want to help me." He sounds serious, and despite the circumstances, you want to poke fun at how he's almost thirty and has the voice of a six year old girl.

"You're my brother," you say blankly.

Stanford stares at you, like this is an illogical reason and invalid thing to say. 

"I'd do anything for you," you say coolly, like it's the clearest thing possible, and you bite back a nasty comment. You want to ask why he never tried to find you before, why your help is all he needs from you. You're hurt, but you won't say it, because you're strangers now. You're too different. Too much time has passed. This is not your other pea. This is an entirely different food. (You're too pissed off to care if your analogy even makes sense.)

Stanford looks touched, a flicker of emotion lighting up his face, but it quickly fades. "This will be confusing," he promises you, as he leads you to the basement. There's a bunch of machinery, and weird looking things that you want to touch that could probably kill you.

You shrug. "I think I can handle it. I'm a big boy, Ford, I got this."

He explains.

You stare for a hard second. "... I'm confused."

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. You can't help but smile a little. "That's okay, because you don't really need to know the entire story," he insists. 

"Then why am I here?"

"You remember our plans, Stanley? To sail away, to forget New Jersey, forget about our past lives?" There's a sound of longing to his voice, and holy  _shit,_ this is happening. 

Your brother  _did_ miss you. He wants you back in his life.

You nod over-eagerly, eyes lighting up. "Yes, of course, I remember!"

He thrusts a leather-bound, thick as hell book into your hands. "Take the ship and dump this as far away as possible," he says, then turns away to play with his toy.

The light in your eyes fade. You should say yes. You should say  _nothing._ But you're so pissed off, you're so  _angry._ You break. "No."

" _What?_ You'll be saving the world, Stanley -"

"I don't care!" You say, and you sound mad. "You haven't talked to me in  _years._ And now, now that you're some big shot, I'm not good enough for you, huh?" You're jabbing at his chest, getting up in his face, shoving the book back into his arms. "HUH?"

He clenches his jaw, looking annoyed that everything isn't going perfectly, the way Stanford Pines is used to. "Big shot?  _Big shot?_ " He laughs darkly. "You ruined any chance, any opportunity at a good future for me! I could've been amazing, I could've been the next Stephen Hawking," he hisses. "You came in and you destroyed  _everything._ That's what you do! You destroy everything you touch. That's all you _can_ do. You're so selfish."

You've never been good with words. So the next logical thing is to punch your brother square in the face. He falls backwards, but doesn't go back without a fight. You're fighting, now, flinging fists around like your ten year-old self would've in honor of your brother. Instead of fighting the local assholes, you're fighting him.

You're travelling around the cramped space, pushing and punching and kicking the crap out of each other. He pushes you into a a slab of metal, imprinting a strange, odd symbol onto your back and you recoil, hissing.

"Stanley, I'm so sorry -" He stops, concern filtering his voice.

 _Now_ he's concerned? "Fuck you," you say, and kick him hard and he falls far away from you, knocking into the machine.

Oh _shit_.

The machine that leads to the dimension of 'weird', as Stanford claimed, is whirring and is turned on. The machine buzzes, a blue, bright light bursting from the creation. Your brother is floating up. Does gravity not exist in this place? Then you realize. He's being pulled into the machine. 

"STANLEY!" He's crying out, grabbing at the air helplessly and hopelessly. 

"STANFORD!" You scream, running after him. But you can't go too close, otherwise you'll both be trapped. All you can do is watch, scream as your brother is pulled into the machine. You listen to his cries of help, his final word haunting you. " _Please._ " He sounds helpless, like a little kid who needs his mother to save him. 

Two things pop out of the machine - the book, and his glasses. 

"I just got you back, no,  _no,_ you're not leaving me-" You yank, pull and nearly break the lever, pressing buttons until you give up.

You collapse onto the ground, the blue light fading until you're left, sitting there in a pool of tears. Of your own tears. You haven't cried in two decades. Oh  _fuck._

He was right, the shit stain always is.

You destroy everything.

You thought your biggest mistake, your dumbest move was ruining your brother's chance at success, but no, this defeats it. Your dumbest mistake was letting your stupid feelings interfere with things. You ruined your brother's life, again. 

* * *

You're thirty-five years old, sitting in The Murder Hut at the cash register.  "Mr Pines?" An unusually high voice snaps you out of your daydreams, and you stand up suddenly, squinting at the gerbil-like man standing in front of you.

"Can I help you?" There's a snide remark hidden somewhere in your mind, but this guy looks innocent and dare you say  _cute._ Not hot, but cute.

"Yeah!" The guy says, and he's smiling goofy and happily. "I'd like to apply for a job position here, Mr Pines."

"Call me, Stan, kid," you say, and you eye him from eye to toe. "Got a resume I can see?" That's what you're supposed to ask, right? You've never had a business for this long, and the stability feels nice. You're used to nearly everyone in town, and you recognize this guy vaguely.  _Vaguely,_ from some visits to the Murder Hut.

The guy giddily hands you a piece of paper, and you don't glance at it. You could use the help, and this guy looks eager enough. 

"Can I ask you a question?" 

"Of course, si - of course, Stan," he says, smiling brightly.

This kid's a fucking goofball, and very young, but he's probably sixteen, maybe seventeen. "What's your name and age?"

"I'm fifteen, and it's Jesus Alzamirano Ramirez, but you can call me Soos." He says.

"Congrats, kid, on the new job. You're hired."

This kid literally squeals and it's deafening, but it's sweet and he's excited. 

"Be here, tomorrow, at eight am  _sharp,_ " you say, no doubt in your mind that this kid will be here at seven thirty. 

The kid, Soos, leaves, and you sigh to yourself.

You've read that book from front to back, and you have no idea how to turn that machine on. You know the answer is somewhere in this pages - your brother isn't an idiot. You pull the book from underneath the counter and cash register, eyeing the front. You trace your fingers over the book, touching the hand with six fingers longingly. You've faked your death, and Stanley Pines is  _dead._ To the world, at least and your family. You've spoke to your mom over the phone a few times, and your father, piece of shit, died a few weeks ago. She, and Shermie, begged for you to come,  but you said you were too busy with your job. It's total shit, but you can't see them, not yet. Maybe Shermie, who probably doesn't know much about Stanford.

 

Your fingers linger on the number two and you realize that it's the second installment. There's a first book and third somewhere. You nearly bump your head on the table and close the shop immediately.

You will find the book.

You will bring him home.

* * *

You're thirty-six when you're officially an uncle and you have your first nephew. Shermie's an absolute idiot, you think, as you head on back to New Jersey. Your brother's seventeen and he's already knocked a girl up, and now, he's a happy father. You're an idiot sure, but you haven't gotten anyone pregnant yet. _Yet._ You haven't seen your brother in fifteen years, and you're hoping he knows next to nothing about Stanford otherwise you're screwed. 

You left Soos in charge of the shop, and you're hoping the place isn't in flames when you get back next week.

He still lives at home, obviously, and he's in his junior year of high school. He's just a kid. You feel your entire body tighten and you freeze, but again, you force yourself to knock on a door to see a brother you haven't seen in years. You brace yourself.

Your mother screams. "Babyyyyy," she cries, flinging her arms around you.

" _Mom,_ " you say gruffly, trying to imitate your serious and painfully emotionless brother. "I missed you too, but  _please._ " 

"Shermie!" She screams, directly into your ear. 

Welcome home, Stan.

"Your brother's here!  _Get in here, and help him with his things!_ " 

"I'm - I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't come for the funeral, it's just been hectic. I miss him a lot, and I'm here for you." In Gravity Falls, you can be yourself. Your mom is the only person left, possibly Sherm, who knows your brother and sadly enough, remembers him. You've gotten his skill with mastering the art of words, or at least, making shit up at the top of your head.

Your mother swats your arm, looking exhausted. "Don't apologize to me! It's okay, honey, your father loved you a lot. He loved your brother too." She gives you a long, sad look.

You realize she's talking about Stanley, talking about  _you._ "Then why did he kick him out? And why - why did you never stop him?"

Your mother looks at you, pain flashing in her eyes. "You were an observant kid, Stanford. I think - I think you can figure out why I was afraid to speak out," she says, laughing a little even though nothing is funny. "He was detached, you know? He loved you both. He loved Shermie, and would've loved the hell out of his grandson."

"He didn't deserve you," is all you say. You knew it. You knew the bastard hit her, you just didn't have proof. He's dead and that's good, because if he were alive, you would've strangled that son of a bitch.

Your mother smiles again. "He kept a roof over our heads and didn't lay a finger on any of you. Please, honey, just leave it. I don't regret any of it, because it gave me you," she says, reaching out to touch your forearm. "I regret letting your brother leave, though...I just hope he's alright."

You feel a twinge of guilt stir in your chest. 

"Stanley was always quick to solve whatever he got himself into. I'm sure he's okay." You quickly change the topi. "Where's my nephew?  _And_ my brother?" 

You blink when you see him, your brother, emerge from his bedroom. He is the spitting image of you.

"He looks like you, huh?" Your mom says, nudging you, with a faint smile.

"He looks like - like Stanley," you say quietly, mostly to yourself. Okay, you're both twins, but there are some differences if you linger on their faces. Stanford's eyes were bigger and were darker. He had a small mole on his neck. Small differences, but differences nonetheless. "Hey," you say briskly.

"Hey," he says sheepishly.

Again, your mother smacks your arm. "Is that how you greet your brother?"

You roll your eyes. "Mom hasn't changed, huh?" You say, and you pull the rugrat into your arms, hugging him. "You look like him, you know," you tell him.

"Like dad?"

"No. Like my twin."

The baby is cute, and looks exactly like Shermie did when he was a baby. "He looks a lot like you did as a baby." You're specific. You've never understood why when a baby's born, people say 'oh, they look so much like you'! The kid's five minutes old. They look like every single newborn. You, at least, know and remember what your brother looked like as a kid. "Does originality not exist in this family?" You joke.

Shermie's girlfriend is sweet, shaking you hand immediately when you met her. "So, this is the infamous Stan Pines," she says, smiling. "I didn't know what to expect, truthfully."

"No one usually does," you say vaguely and mysteriously, but smile anyway. Her name's already forgotten, as is your nephew, but it's fine.

The week goes by quickly, and your mom begs you to stay an extra day, but you insist that the shop won't run itself. You tell them to visit any time, and that they get a dollar discount. "This booger gets in for free, though," you say, grinning at your nephew. 

You've never been more relieved to leave somewhere as you are now, and to your surprise, when you arrive home six hours later, the shop is in no damage. Soos is asleep on the front counter though, even though it's only eleven pm. You lay a blanket over him, not wanting to disrupt his sleep.

Your mother scolded you earlier, asking where her grandchildren and wife were. You told her kids weren't on the plate, but looking down at Soos, you realize he's pretty much your son. You scowl - kids are  _annoying._ You don't want a family, never did.

That's okay.

You have enough family.

Soos is good enough.

And soon, you'll have your brother.

* * *

 

You're fifty, nearing on fifty-one, (damn, you're getting old), when your little nephew is continuing the family cycle, impregnating a fifteen year old girl. It's twins, Shermie tells you. He's not exactly proud, but his kid and the girl promises to stay in school, something that your mother, Shermie and you, technically, never did. Shermie's a good man, though. He's only thirty-five, way too young to be a grandfather, which you find  _hilarious._

You're fifty, spending the rest of your years trying to retrieve your twin brother.

You found the third book, and read it front to back, but you're still looking for the first one.

When your nephew becomes a father, and your brother becomes a grandfather, you're too swamped with the renamed Mystery Shack. They come for a visit when the kids are three months, and it's twins, one boy and a girl. 

This thought makes you uneasy. You don't want them making the same mistakes you did, don't want them letting stupid things like fear and jealousy ruin everything. You admit this to the girl, Mabel, when you'e changing her. "Love your brother, okay? Love him, and never forget to cherish him."

She laughs, holy shit she's cute, and you melt. You're a sucker for babies. What does this make you? A great uncle? "You'll see your great uncle, the  _real_ Stanford Pines," you whisper to her. "He's amazing. A little nerdy, but I bet you'll be the nerdy one and your brother will be the popular one. It's how it works." You forgot his name, but her name's stuck with you. You've also forgotten your nephew's name, needing to be reminded only two or three times. A day. She's beautiful, looking much like her mother and great-grandmother. 

Your mom's nearing seventy, and she's a great-grandmother. You joke about how she could make it for the next generation. Naturally, she swats your arms and laughs, croaking about how funny you've gotten, much like your brother.

Your mom doesn't question the abrupt change in your personality, thankfully, and you've gotten to know Shermie over the past decade or so. He's a good kid, working hard to support his family and you assume, his grandchildren. 

"They're beautiful," Chastity, you sister-in-law, coos, holding the boy in her hands. You find her name ironic, considering she was nineteen when she had her son. "I have no idea how Shermie and I am gonna support them, though," she stresses, but holds them close. She hands him to you, and you awkwardly hand Mabel to her. "We already have enough trouble supporting one kid as it is. Two grandchildren?" She sighs, but her face softens when Mabel yawns.

The kid starts wailing when you hold him. You rock him back and forth, like your mom taught you when Shermie was born, until he stops. "I'll help you out. I got nothing to spend my money on. These kids are cute, y'know. Worth every penny."

She laughs. "Would that be an issue? You're a great uncle, you know, John loves you."

Ah, John, that's your nephew's name. "Yeah, uh - love John, too. Of course. You're family, you know. And I'm still waiting on my wedding photos! Two years and you haven't gotten to me."

She laughs again, her eyes crinkling. "I'll get to that, I promise. You should invite us more often. I'm sure Mabel would love this place, wouldn't you?"

"Bring 'em over some time. When they're older, I mean. I can't handle one crying baby, barely handle two. Yeah, when they're twelve or something, that should be good." You play the emotional card, now. "My brother would've loved these kids. Stanley loved kids, you know?"

"He sounds amazing. It's a shame you two never reconciled."

" _Please._ " His voice plays again in her head, and you shudder with guilt. "I'll see him again, one day," you say.

Chastity smiles sadly, not saying anything else, which you appreciate. "I'm gonna take a nap. Would you mind watching 'em?"

"Not at all," you say haughtily, and you're holding them both, sitting in a rocking chair when the boy starts crying again once Chastity's left. "Shh. Wanna hear a story?" To pass time, you tell the twins the story of another Pines twins, the superior ones, frankly. You tell them about your mission. About how you're going to find him, bring him home, and sail off, living the dream you always had. "You'll meet him. I told your sister that. He'd love you both so fu -  _dang_ much. Don't do what I did, okay? Never make my mistakes. Love each other, and you'll be happy. I  _promise._ " 

"Is that true?"

You nearly drop the kids, when your mother walks in, looking all broken and sad. She must've been eavesdropping. "Are you - are you not Stanford? Are you ... are you Stanley?" She doesn't sound mad. She sounds ... relieved. "Tell me the truth!" She starts to shout when you don't reply.

"Don't get mad, okay?" You say, even though you'd be pretty mad. You owe your mother the truth. At this rate, she'll be long dead before you get him back. _If_ you get him back. "It's - it's me. It's Stanley."

She hugs you, pressing the twins against her chest and they start to wail. She pulls away, and you see tears bubbling in her eyes. "I'm so  _sorry._ I should've stopped your father, I should have done something. What happened, Stanley? I - I love you. I thought - I thought you died, died hating me," she says, sobbing and you start to tear up.

"Stop crying, please. I'll find him, okay? I might be late ..." Your voice trails, not wanting to mention how your mom probably won't live to see Stanford again. "I'm sorry. I never hated you." I just hated him, you want to add, but she'll cry harder.

"No, your - your brother knew - he  _knows_ I love him. I'm sorry. I'm your mom, how could I not know? I - I'm glad I know. I'm glad I can die knowing my son never hated me."

" _Mom._ " You know your mom isn't getting younger (neither are you), and she's going to die one day, but you don't like her saying that aloud. "I ruined his life. Twice."

"Stanley," she says, hitting your arm. "Don't say that. I wish your father, I wish he -" 

"I hate him," you say blankly. "I'm happy you know. It's okay, it's okay. We're identical, right?"

She laughs, hugging you and the twins simultaneously. Your mother dies three months later, in her sleep and you cry, cry, and cry.

You need to find Stanford. 

You  _have_ to. 

* * *

 

When you get a call from Chastity, saying that Vanessa, John's wife, wants a kid-free summer and she thought of you, you're internally screaming. You're almost there,  _so_ close to getting your brother back, and she wants the twins over? You were just  _kidding._ But what are you supposed to say? No? So you say yes, pretending you're excited, when you're positive these kids are going to be bored out of their minds and are gonna be spoiled brats.

That's not exactly how it works.

The boy, Dipper (what a stupid fucking name, not dumber than Gravity Falls, though), is unexcited. Mable, however (her name always stuck with you), is practically shitting rainbows at this place. She's amazed by every trinket, giggling and grinning like when she was a baby. They don't remember your story of Stanford. They seem to get along, though. Mabel doesn't talk much to him, not until you cough. 

"No hi to your uncle?"

Mabel grins, running to you. "HI, GRUNKLE STAN!" 

This kid is still cute, you think. You hug her, grinning widely at the rush of warmth. "Too cool to hug your - your Grunkle Stan?" The word awkwardly rolls off your tongue, but you'll get used to it.

"He isn't too excited to be here," Mabel says, like it isn't obvious. 

"Mabel," Dipper hisses, but he doesn't put up a fight, walking slowly over to you. Mabel pushes him to you, and you hug him, even if he seems grossed out to touch you.

"You two were the cutest babies," you say. "Now you're all grown up." Dipper is literally Ford the second, a book held tightly in his hands. Mabel seems social and sweet. She's like you, but better and a girl.

"Our birthday's coming up!" Mabel says excitedly. "The big thir _teen."_

"Oh yeah?" You grin toothily.  She sounds excited to be a teen, to get older, that you almost snort. You won't crush her dreams, not yet. "We -  _my_ birthday's soon, too. Hopefully someone special will be here to celebrate."

Mabel grins. "Ooh, is it a  _girl?_ "

"Someone even better. That's a story for another day, kiddos. Meet Soos and Wendy yet?" You change the subject. You gesture to Soos, the huge gerbil-like man, and Wendy, the new girl you hired recently who wanted a summer job.

Little Dipper blushes so hard when Wendy winks at him. He's not subtle at  _all_ and it's sorta cute. 

* * *

You're sixty-two, almost sixty-three when you find the third book. The final piece. And it's been in the hands of Dipper, your great-nephew (grephew?), and it's been in front of you this entire time. You're shaking with excitement, putting the pages together. The machine whirs for the first time in three decades. "I'm bringing you home, Ford," you say teary-eyed. You should really tell the kids soon. After putting that son of a bitch behind bars for attempted murder, you've grown closer.

You're fond of them. Fonder than you'd care to admit, but you like them.

You loved Mabel the second she was born, her laugh was and continues to be infectious and makes you smile even on your darkest days. Dipper hated you as a baby, and you were under the impression of that now too, but he likes you. Mabel's gone out of her way to prove it to you, too. 

You're toying around with it one night in early August, when the machine whirs for the first time in a few years and, following the book, click a random assortment of buttons until there's a timer.  _Twenty-four hours._

In exactly a day from now, you will be reunited with your twin brother. You're shaking with fear, excitement, anticipation. " _Stanford._ " You whisper his name like a prayer, tears spilling from your cheeks. You haven't cried, not since your mom died, but you're going to see him. 

You will see Stanford this time tomorrow.

* * *

 

The kids are playing around with some firecrackers outside the next day, maybe it's too visible, but whatever. You're grinning, watching them run around like they're your own and they are, technically. Sure, they're not your grandchildren, but they're close as hell. You love them. You love Shermie, you love John (finally got his name down!), but they're different. They're on the same level as Stanford, you realize. 

You think of the clock downstairs, ticking the time away before your brother comes back. "Hey, kids?" You say, watching their faces light up.

"Yeah, Grunkle Stan?" Dipper says, his voice cracking. Ah, puberty. The most confusing time of a young person's life.

Mabel snickers, and you laugh too. 

" _Yeah, Grunkle Stan?_ " Dipper says again, visibly lowering his voice.

This makes you and Mable just laugh even harder. This kid is funny without trying to be.

Dipper's blushing at this point. "Get to the point," he says anxiously.

They're looking at you, with big, innocent eyes. Even after all they've been through, they're still innocent and pure. What would they say? After finding out you're a fraud, you're a terrible brother? A terrible  _person?_ Those kids love you, with everything they have, and they'll find out eventually. You'll save it for Ford to explain. "I - I really do care about you guys. You're little boogers, but you've grown on me. I really care about you both, okay? You're gonna hear some things about me. Some good, mostly bad, but you know the real  _me._ And know that I seriously care about you and would do anything for you, okay?"

Dipper and Mabel share a look that slightly scares you. Twin telepathy, the skill of reading each other's faces, something you and Ford are used too. They break out into smiles.

"We know, Grunkle Stan," Mabel says.

Dipper doesn't say anything, but inches closer, and  you're in a Pines group hug. 

Sirens fill your ears and you're torn away from Dipper and Mabel, who scream and kick and shout. "What the-?" You're pushed to the ground, hands searching your body for weapons. "Get off me!" You scream, kicking and trying to pry yourself away from whatever monster is behind you. 

But it's the FBI. "Stan Pines, you are under arrest for stealing government material." They read you your rights, rights you've memorized at this point. Oh  _crap._ "SOOS, SOOS!" Why did it have to be now? You're going to miss it, no, you  _have_ to be there. You've been waiting thirty-four years for this day. "Please, please, don't - the kids, they need someone -"

"You have the wrong guy! He's our grunkle, he couldn't hurt a bat," Mabel insists.

You walk faster, even though this guy's handling you is pretty bulky and could snap you in half, because you can't hear this. You  _refuse_ to.  

John is going to  _kill_ you.

You arrive at their station, and the interrogation room is hot as fuck. "Can I have some water?"

"Answer some questions first."

"Look dude, I'm going to die of dehydration before I can get another sentence out."

The dude smirks, and you can't take him seriously with his blonde hair.

You dodge around their questions, watching the time nervously. You have two hours. Two hours becomes an hour, and that turns into thirty minutes. You need to get out of here. "You have no proof!" 

"I need a break. How bout this - I give you five minutes to clear your head, and you come back with some answers. Sound good?" 

You give him the finger. When he comes back, you kick him and manage to beat the rest of the guys up. You're sixty, but you're not _that_ old yet. You got ten men in black and white suits (creepy) and you run as fast as you can. You pay a taxi cab guy with wads of cash to drive around and they buy it. You're sprinting, now, to The Mystery Shack.

You see the kids. They stare at you like they have no idea who you are anymore.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ There's a minute left, and the world is spinning. Gravity is non-existent, not until the countdown goes down. Some weird side effect that Ford's gotta fix up when he gets back. 

" _Don't_ come closer!" Dipper snaps, and he looks betrayed.

"You don't understand!" You say. "Move out of the way!" You bark. You've spent half of your life looking, searching for your brother, and you're not waiting another day, another  _minute._ "I'll explain, please -"

"You're going to end the world!" Dipper screams

Soos tackles you. "I'm sorry, Stan - if that's even your name."

"Stan Pines is dead! Who are you? ANSWER ME."

They're floating at this point Thirty seconds left. You try to kick Soos off, holy crap, this guy's stronger than you knew. Could've been a body guard or something. " _Please,_ I can't explain. You can't press it!  _PLEASE MABEL._ "

"Mabel! Don't do it!"

"I don't even know you anymore, Grunkle Stan." Mabel's crying, and you don't blame her. They're world's been turned upside down, and they probably found your box of fake identities. "Are you even my grunkle?"

"Mabel. I've lied to you. To all of you. But I  _love_ you. I'll explain after. Just, please, don't press the button. Trust me.  _Please._ " You echo Stanford, the last word you ever heard him say to you. Until now. 

There's silence.

"MABEL!" Dipper cries out.

"I trust you." She lets go of the machine and the light is blinding, and you all fall suddenly. Your back hurts, and the light fades. Your heart pounds and a figure emerges from the machine. You can't speak. For once in your life, you're speechless. Your tenth grade teacher would be proud.

"Who is that?" Dipper says quietly.

"The author," you say, grinning. You stand up, straightening yourself. 

Your heart thumps.

He emerges into the light, into view. "Stan?" 

"Who - who is that?" Mabel asks.

You don't smile. You freeze, waiting for the world to stop spinning. "My twin brother."

He lunges at you, and the kids pull him off. "You - you  _idiot_ -"

"That fight was thirty years ago! Are you still angry at me?" You're angry now. You spend half your life trying to save him, and this is how he repays you? This is what he says to you? Waste of your damn time if this was what he'd say to you.

"You saved me, but you - you caused so many problems," he's at a loss for words, stumbling. He lunges at you, and the kids don't react quickly enough. But he's actually hugging you. You hug him, feeling warmth. You feel happy. He was your life long goal. Your mission. Mom would've been proud of you.

"So," Mabel says, laughing. "Who wants to explain their entire backstory?"

"Are they yours?" Stanford asks quizzically, staring at Mabel.

"They're Shermie's grand kids. They're mine for the summer."

"Oh." Stanford smiles, extending his hand outwards to Mabel who beams with pride. "Nice to meet you, er ..."

"Mabel," she fills him in.

Dipper looks like he's going to faint. "You're - you're the author, oh my God! I'm related to the author." He's squealing, and Stanford's eyebrows are furrowed.

This is hilarious.

"You-you've read my journals?" He sounds shocked, like someone related to him could be interested in the weird.

Dipper's eyes widen. "Read that? I've lived them!"

Soos has been staring at your brother since he came out of that portal. 

"You want to know the story or what? I owe you three an explanation, don't I?"

You gather them into a circle and explain, forgetting about how you just escaped those agents who'll probably find you here. 

"I'm - I'm so sorry, Stan," Dipper says halfway through. "I didn't know."

"I just wanted you safe. I get it, Dipper. I get it. I didn't want you guys getting involved, or messing this up." You tense, realizing how that sounded. "Instead, you helped me. Without you, I wouldn't have found a way to turn this thing on. Or get this loser back. Or be about to be arrested. But that's whatever."

Sirens blare and  _shit,_ you've been explaining for too long.

"WAIT!" Mabel says. "What about you, Grunkle Ford? What happened to you? How'd you end up in that machine-thing? Did you get to go to that school?"

"What -  _oh._ That's quite smart of you. Grunkle, I like it - oh. Well, I got into my safety school, but I excelled. Graduated ahead of time, achieved  _twelve_ PHD's. Not to brag or anything."

You roll your eyes. Sixty-four years later, and nothing's changed.

"I got a grant to study whatever I wanted. I was always interested in the weird, the unusual. I  _am_ the unusual." He waves his six fingers. "I read up on anomalies, and Gravity Falls came up as a strange town. I called up an old friend from school, and got his help. I figured that this creatures were coming from _somewhere,_ I just needed to know where. So it came to me. A dimension with weirdness. I got Fiddleford McGucket's help and stated writing the journals, documenting my discoveries and -"

Dipper squeals. Like, loudly and not subtly either.

"I'm going to ignore that," your brother says, confusedly. "And I created it. But something happened. Fiddleford got caught, and saw - saw some things. He didn't want to help, thought I should've destroyed it. I called out to Stan and we got into a fight and - and I've been in there for the past thirty-four years. Half my life spent in that - those places."

You're curious. You want to know, but no, now's not the time. "I'm sorry, you know," you say quietly. Maybe now isn't the place, when you're hiding from federal agents that want to arrest you. "I'm sorry."

Your brother sighs, like he's guilty. "You saved me."

"COME OUT!" An agent's voice booms from upstairs, banging on the door. "WE KNOW YOU'RE THERE."

You'd swear if Mabel and Dipper, two impressionable kids, weren't here. "Dammit, I forgot about them. If only they could forget."

Again, Dipper's eyes widen and he's jumping up and down. "I know, I know! The thing McGucket used to erase his memory! I have it!" Dipper pulls it from what could be his ass for all you know and you see Stanford's eyes widen too, and he's impressed.

"You have it. You are some kid, uh, Dip was it?"

You snort. "Dipper," you correct.

"Ah, my apologies. That should - that should work." Stanford gets up and he's the most confident you've seen him in years. He marches out the front door, returning in a few minutes to tell you it's safe. 

Your brother's here for twenty minutes and he's already saved your ass. "We need to talk," you say gruffly. "Upstairs.  _Now._ " You tell Mabel and Dipper. "Soos, go home."

Soos is not an issue. He listens to you, scampering off, off to his house presumably. The twins are the real problem here. 

"No," Dipper says defiantly, and you see Stanford in him.

"We want to stay!" Mabel says, sounding frustrated. You see yourself in her. The good in you, which makes you feel better about yourself. If you're like Mabel, you're automatically a semi-decent person. 

"This is not up for debate. Go upstairs before you regret not going.  _NOW._ " You sound like your father, which angers you severely, but you've had a rough day. This wasn't how you imagined seeing your brother, but still. You've been waiting and you missed him so freaking much.

Their shoulders sag and they look at you with fear, but go without a further complaint. 

"You sound like dad," Stanford says, laughing shakily. "Look like him, too."

"Shut up," you say, nudging him. "You know I hated him."

"Hated? He's -" Stanford doesn't finish his sentence. You nod.

"He's dead. So - so's mom." There's no difficulty when you say your father's dead. Your mother, on the other hand - she was a good parent. She loved you, loved Stanford, loved Shermie, loved everyone with her soul and you know she's cheering you on, wherever the hell she is. "Shermie's alright. He's got a kid of his own, that kid got twins of their own, Dipper and Mabel. He got a family. He's happy. Youngest grandpa I know," you say, laughing.

Your brother smiles thinly. "Good. Did you - did you start a family?"

You shake your head. "No. Never wanted kids, it's fine. I was too busy searching for you, so there'd be no time even if I wanted 'em. These two are good enough. Besides - I got enough family." 

"I didn't know I was so time consuming." He doesn't sound bitter. He's bitter that you saved him, apparently causing problems your brother's yet to explain to you yet. "You shouldn't have."

"Way to thank me, brother." You're staring at each other in the mirror inside the Shack. "When did we get so old?" 

He snorts. "I look pretty good for a - a -" Did he forget his age?

"Sixty-four in two weeks," you say, and for once, you know something he doesn't.

"Look, Stanley, you can stay here until the end of the summer, watch the kids. After that ... after that, you gotta leave. And this - this  _shop_ of yours, close it down. You stole my life, I deserve it back." He sounds as detached as your father did. You were always scared you'd become your father, when you're literally staring at him as he stands next to you.

"I stole nothing," you say harshly. "Fine." You're too tired, too exhausted to argue. "Just - just do me a favor? Stay out of their lives. This is too dangerous for them, they don't need to be scarred even further. They're good kids, Ford. Really good kids. Good fuck -" You remember the kids are probably eavesdropping. "-Good night." You storm upstairs without a word, passing their rooms and to mess with them, you knock on the door, hard.

You hear someone fall to the floor and snicker. You need a pick me up, so you ask to come in. You don't know why you're asking, when they're the guests and technically you are too. You open the door, seeing Mabel and Dipper panting as they lie in their bed. "Hey, kiddos."

"Is it that bad?" Mabel asks.

You've lied to them for too long. "Looks like it. It's - it's how it goes. For some of us," you quickly add. "You two? You two will be fine."

"Stan, you two were best friends. What happened?" 

You realize, you're in the same position you were nearly thirteen years ago, and you smile to yourself. "I ruined his life. I made mistakes. A lot of them. I should've owned up. Me and him? We're kind of - we're kind of broken. Our relationship can't - it can't mend, is what I'm saying. You two have a lot of time. Love each other. Don't let  dumb things like fear or jealousy ruin things." You try to mirror what you told them and they smile. You don't want them to think they'll end up like you and Stanford. The Pine twins who fell apart. They will be the Pines twins. Period. 

"Okay," Mabel says, and she snuggles up to you. "You two will work things out before we go, right? Promise me?"

Mabel's like you, but she's different. She's optimistic, hopeful for a good future. You won't crush her dreams and her light, not yet, but you won't lie.

"I'll try." 

That's good enough and she takes it.

* * *

 

It's the day before your sixty-fourth birthday when the literal apocalypse begins and you lose sight of everyone you love.

Wendy? Gone.

Soos? Gone.

Mabel? Gone.

Dipper?  _Gone._

Stanford, the person you  _just_ got back? 

Gone. 

Nothing good lasts long, you've come to learn in your six decades. 

You hide in the Shack, because, for some reason, none of the monsters and that triangle dude can't come past. You kind of like it, because for the first time for the past two months, you're by yourself. But after a few hours, you hate it.

Mabel and Dipper are annoying sometimes sure, but they're kids. That's part of the job. You're used to them, you're used to their games and their creature-adventures. You start getting lonely, lonelier than you were in your twenties. 

Someone knocks on your door.

_Shit._

You lift a bat, lowering the volume of the television immediately. It could be a resident of Gravity Falls, looking to  _kill_ for food and resources. 

"Help!" That voice ... you recognize that voice. It's the Mayor of Gravity Falls, his name coming to a blank in her head. "Please, someone's hurt!  _Please!_ " 

If you weren't feeling lonely and missing the hell out of those kids, you would've let him knock his way to death. But you are desperate for company, something that'll probably change in a few hours, so you reluctantly open the door, bat still raised.

The Mayor's holding a kid with a twisted ankle and a pool of blood dripping from her knee.

"Thank you!" The Mayor gasps, reaching to hug you and you back away. 

"Come in," you say gruffly, closing the door on your way back. "Nothing can come through, so make yourself comfy. Might be a while."

It is. More and more people come, most of them injured, so you can't really say no. Most of the town, the part that isn't dead, is lodged in your Shack, and you let them do what they want, only snapping when someone takes more food than necessary. "Ever heard of rationing?" You snap when Tad Strange tries to take an extra french fry.

"Oh, sorry there, Mr Pines!" He says, smiling with those white pearls of his.

You want to tell him to suck your ass, but you force a smile back.

You don't know how much time passes. It's probably your birthday right now, and Shermie and John are probably the only ones who know, but the landlines are cut, so you're gonna have two voice mails to answer to. You tell everyone you're going to your room to change your pants, but really, you just grab a picture of you and Stanford.

"Happy birthday to you," you say, dragging your thumb down his picture with a teary smile. 

You hear footprints that aren't from where everyone is, so you run downstairs to warn everyone else. You, and half the town, raise weapons, things like chairs and a fork, and aim them from where the sound is coming from.

When they step into view, you swing your bat but stop halfway through.

You scream.

Dipper and Soos scream. Wendy and Mabel break out into relieved smiles.

"Kids!" You say, startled to see them. Where's your brother, though? You want to ask, but you wait to hug them, making sure they're okay. 

This is the one time Dipper actually isn't embarrassed to be seen near you or with you. "What are you all doing here? Is this where everyone's been?"

"Pretty much. For some reason, none o' the monsters can reach us. The Shack's protected. Stanford, uh - was he with you? Is he okay ...?" You trail your voice suggestively, bracing yourself for whatever answer will come your way.

Dipper looks uncomfortable at Mabel, then back to you. "We'll save him, Grunkle Stan. I  _promise._ " 

At first, you don't believe him. Why should you? Your life has been a series of mistakes that led you here. If you hadn't pushed him into that thing, the triangle, Bill Cipher, wouldn't be here, the apocalypse wouldn't be happening right now. Your brother might have had a family. You look down at them, stare at Dipper and there's some of you in him, too. Some of Shermie, too. Like that curiosity - from your mom's stories and from knowing him, he needs to know everything and is a wanderer. 

You see the sincerity, determination and dedication sparkle in his eyes.

You promised Stanford that day, thirty-something years ago that you would save him.

* * *

It's five hours later when you're reunited, again, with Stanford and he realizes that this is destiny, that everything aligned perfectly so this moment could happen.

"How is that possible?" Wendy asks. "Fate - does it even exist? How do you know?"

"When Fiddleford came out of the machine, he was saying - saying crazily, spewing garbage. I  _thought_ it wasn't true, that he was delusional, but it was a prophecy.  _Look._ All these symbols mean something. This moment was written out by the fates, written out so we could save the world and save any future harm from happening.  _Look._ Go - go find your symbols. We can save the world," Stanford says, and he looks amazed. 

You're still processing, and you find your hat on the circle. Dozens of townsfolk arrange themselves, finding their spots.

"Is this not creeping anyone out?" The rich kid that Mabel was jealous of asks.

You look at Mabel for hope, for something. She's smiling, and there's hope lighting her face up.

Dipper looks like Stanford and like his dad, John, right now, like he's amazed and horrified and excited all at once. "Wow," he says breathlessly.

"Hold hands," Stanford says.

Of course, you're next to Ford. There's murmur of complaint, and you shout at them. "You want to stop him, or are you gonna keep complaining about someone's sweaty hand? Buck up - we've all had to do things we don't want to." Silence falls over everyone immediately and you turn to your brother.

"Hold my hand," Ford says.

You're a hypocrite. You cross your arms, refusing. "Thank me."

"For acting like a brat?"

"You - you never thanked me for bringing you up. I dedicated half my life to saving  _you_ and a simple thank you would be nice!" Maybe now is not the best time to show your resentment. Maybe you are being a brat, a spoiled brat. But your life has been hell. You could've left him in that portal, left him there. But if it's true, fate or some type of destiny, exists. You were destined to be a failure. You were destined to push him into that portal. You were destined to turn your life around. Ford was destined to spend three decades in that hell hole.

"Grunkle Stan, you're wasting time," Mabel says, frowning.

You start to push Ford when he refuses and you're fighting.

"Hey, hey,  _stop!_ " Mabel's screaming at you. 

Sighing, you're willing to give up and hold his damn hand, but he says it.

"Thank you. Thank you for saving me. I - I thought you would've left me there to rot, but you didn't. You figured it out. Now will you  _please_ hold my hand?" 

You reluctantly grab his sweaty hand, but it's too late. A piece of the wall is literally taken out by Bill Cipher and he cackles. You drop your hands - it's pointless now. 

Once again, you've made a mistake.

A catastrophic, life-threatening mistake.

You're officially a fuck up. And an idiot.

"You have to be holding hands you know? Aw well, shucks. You tried! And perfect, too - you're all in the same room." One by one, he plucks people off, until it's the Pines family. "Stanford, c'mon, man - give me the equation." His voice is demonic and he lifts your brother up.

" _Never._ " His gaze shifts to the kids, and you freeze. What is he doing?

Bill just  _has_ to notice this, and he looks at them too " _Oh!_ Those kids, those are your priorities. Well, how about this?" He snatches the kids, suffocating them as they float in the air, kicking helplessly.

Stanford's face falls. "Oh - okay. I'll do it. As long as you don't hurt the kids."

"Stanford! What're you doing, man?" He has to be the savior, huh? "You take him - you, you take me too!"

Bill grins, cackling again. It's horrifying, you think. "Surely!" You're floating now and you're whisked away.

He locks you and Stanford up into a triangular-shaped prison (go figure), and you've given up escape. He's making final touches to his plans, probably. "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

Stanford tenses, but shakes his head. "No - don't blame yourself for _his_ actions. He's going to enter my mind - if we could just erase my memories, we would erase him. Permanently." The machine used in the basement on those agents what feels like years ago is gripped in his hand.

"Can't he just go into my mind?"

"You have nothing he wants, Stanley."

You find it ironic that you come up with the plan. He's the smart one, isn't he? It's fitting, and he makes sure you're one hundred percent sure you want to do this. You tell him you've never been more sure in your life.

It works.

After all, you're both identical.

Seeing the smug look wiped off that fucker's face is soothing as he burns, and it's a great, final memory.

* * *

You open your eyes. You're slumped against a tree, positive that you have twenty splinters now. Some kid, a girl, wraps her arms around your neck and smiles. 

Who is she? Who - who are you? You awkwardly let her hug you, not wanting to say no. It feels nice, though. You like the warmth she provides you and she's tiny in your arms. Tinier than she actually is, you realize, when she pulls away to grin at you. Her grin is infectious, and you smile even though you're not really happy. You're just confused.

"Grunkle Stan! We did it!"

You smile again, gently pulling her off of you. "I'm sorry, but who are you? Who's  _Stan?_ " The name sounds familiar to you, but you can't put your finger on it. All you remember is a swing set and someone, a boy with thick-rimmed glasses, swinging next to you. "Where am I?"

The girl's face falls and you see another person standing behind her step forward and press their -  _his_ hand on her shoulder. "We had to erase Stan's memories to get rid of Bill Cipher, Mabel. I'm sorry."

 _Mabel._ That clicks, and you think of a baby. A smiling, laughing baby in your hands.

You realize a boy  standing next to her when he speaks. "So, we saved the world, saved Gravity Falls, but not him?" He sounds angry, but mostly sad. Like he would've let the world burn to save this 'Stan' person they keep talking about him.

"I'm sorry, Dipper," is all the man can say.

_Dipper._

You see another baby, but this one is wailing. Crying at you, and screaming. But the boy in front of you, he looks sad. 

You realize that you're Stan. Is this your family? Is that - is that your brother?

"Is my name Stan?"

Mabel and Dipper, the kids, frown at you, and Mabel starts to cry. You frown. Are you making her cry? Isn't Dipper the one that cries when he's near you?

The man however smiles. "Yes, Stan _ley._ I'm your twin brother, Stanford."

The children, twins as Stanford tells you, like you and him are, lead you and him to a shop that they tell you is yours. Mabel's crying but smiling, refusing to accept that you're clueless about anything in your life. Or what  _was_ your life, at least. She's showing you different parts of this place, hoping to trigger a memory or  _something,_ but it's blank.

A pig charges at you, and you hiss. "Get Waddles  _off_ me!"

"What did you just say?" There's something in her voice. Hope.

It doesn't take much longer for your memories to flood back to you and within days, you remember everything. You remember, most importantly, seeing Bill Cipher die. You hug Stanford immediately once you, essentially, remember everything. "Shermie has a hell of a story to hear, huh?" You say, laughing.

Stanford laughs too, hugging you back. He doesn't reply.

You break apart, and there's an uncomfortable silence settling over. 

"You know, Stanley, ever since the portal's been shut, all the creatures have just - just disappeared. The source of weirdness is gone. Gravity Falls is a regular town, for once, thanks to us," he says quietly.

You nod. "Okay." Why is he telling you this? You're semi-relieved that this town is normal, but a little sad that it's magic is gone. But you deserve a normal life.

"However, there's been supernatural discrepancies, if you will, in the Pacific ocean. I was wondering if you would help me, help me  _contain_ them? So no one gets hurt?"

You think you know what he's asking. "Summer's almost over. We gotta get started on a new ship, huh?" 

Stanford grins.

You lay in bed that night. You're giving the shop to Soos first thing tomorrow, announcing it to him and the town at a conference you're holding. It's Dipper and Mabel's birthday tomorrow. They're also leaving tomorrow, which again, makes you relieved but sad. You'll see them again, but still. You'll miss the rugrats. You're starting your new life two days from now, too. You're excited but scared. You have your brother now, and nothing,  _nothing_ will tear you apart.

You haven't started packing yet,  _shit,_ you think. You better get started before Stanford gives you a lecture on responsibility.

Your life, in a way, has gone by excruciatingly slowly and quickly. Searching and ultimately retrieving your brother has been long and tiring. He's home. Not this house, but with you. You're his home. He's yours.

It's been a long sixty-four years. 

It's been a long ass summer.

**Author's Note:**

> I recently watched the finale of Gravity Falls for the first time, and I decided to spend the week binge watching Gravity Falls. I started, oddly, with He's Not What He Seems, then moved onto A Tale of Two Stans. I started to think about Stanley Pines, and his life. I got emotional, and whenever I get emotional, I write, thus this fic was created. It's not really a fic, since these things happened.
> 
> I tried to keep things accurate, according to the timeline. Again, some things are probably non-canon compliant and/or slightly altered compared to canon. I tried to keep some of my favorite parts lined up with actual lines from the show. Emphasis on 'tried'. 
> 
> There are a lot of mistakes, probably, so forgive me. 
> 
> I wanted to focus on how Stanford is really Stan's home and favorite person. The show does a good job at that, but I wanted to just make it more in depth, to really show his regret and how he feels like he's a screw up, which is canon. I loved the ending of the show, and tried my best to explain some things the show didn't. Like how Stan's younger brother is a young grandfather. I put in some headcanons just to explain why Stan is the way he is, like Stan's abusive father or him being bisexual, even if it's only vaguely mentioned. Anyway, I hope I made you feel something. I'm really proud of this piece, even though I wrote this in the span of a day and probably, again, noticed none of the mistakes. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. :)


End file.
